


A New Destiny

by somethingnerdythiswaycomes



Series: Fall Away [9]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, D/s AU, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Multi, Negotiations Implied, Polyamory, Switch/Switch, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 12:18:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6238450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingnerdythiswaycomes/pseuds/somethingnerdythiswaycomes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dylan's probably only actually Dommed Mitch once, a while ago.  Because of where each of them falls on the switch spectrum, it just doesn't happen for them.  There's something about Mitch, though, a little bit calmer but still as happy as he is after every Knights win, tucked under Dylan's arm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the London Knights/Erie Otters game on February 10th.
> 
> I do not represent the real people presented as characters in this fic, nor do I make any claims about what they do or do not do in their private lives.

“We’re picking up a pizza and going to your hotel room,” Dylan says, slinging an arm over Mitch’s shoulder.  Mitch grins up at him, hair dripping onto his neck and cheeks flushed.

“Sounding a little cocky for not even scoring a goal,” Mitch says, eyes glittering.

“Shut up, Marns,” Dylan replies easily, pulling Mitch closer.  Mitch snaps his mouth shut.  Dylan raises an eyebrow at him.  “So it’s like that, is it?”

“If that’s how you want it.”

Dylan takes a second to consider it – he’s probably only actually Dommed Mitch once, a while ago.  Because of where each of them falls on the switch spectrum, it just doesn’t happen for them.  And it’s been a while since they’d been able to be together _at all_ , even around the games their teams have played.  It’d be strange, to do that in a rare night they get together, and especially one where the Otters lost.  Dylan’s not usually in a Dom mindset after that.

There’s something about Mitch, though, a little bit calmer but still as happy as he is after every Knights win, tucked under Dylan’s arm.

“Yeah, that’s how I want it.”

Mitch goes up on his tip-toes and kisses Dylan gently.  Dylan kisses back, but breaks away before he’s tempted to deepen the kiss.  They have a whole night, somehow, and Dylan wants to take his time.

“I’m driving.  Text your roommate and ask him to clear out for a bit?”

Mitch already has his phone out, and Dylan leads him out of the arena as Mitch types.

Dylan missed having Mitch tucked against him.  He knows he’s going to miss it, again, once Mitch has to get on the bus with his team and go back to London.  But he isn’t going to think about it the same way he isn’t going to think about how long it’s been since he got to touch Connor, and he’ll be okay.

“Are you all right?” Mitch asks, and Dylan realizes he’d been tightening his hold on Mitch subconsciously.

“Thinking about you leaving tomorrow,” Dylan replies truthfully.  One of the things he and Mitch had talked about, after Dylan had been able to settle everything with Connor, was how Dylan needed to be honest about his feelings.  _I’m not touching you again if you’re dishonest with me,_ Mitch had said, _I’ll pull my dick out of you and put on my pants and leave if you lie to me, I swear to God._   And now – Dylan can see how it’s necessary.  It’s gotten easier.

“I’m here now,” Mitch says and kisses him again, in the parking lot behind Insurance Area.  “Don’t think about it until breakfast, okay?”

“Early breakfast?”

“Of course.”

Dylan huffs a laugh.  “All right, Daddy.”

Mitch grins and lets Dylan lead him the rest of the way to his car, waiting until Dylan’s opened the passenger door for him before he slides in and buckles up.  Dylan starts the car and tosses his phone to Mitch, telling him to pull up Waze.

“You ordered from Stevo’s, right?” Mitch asks, his tongue poking out between his lips.

“Of course,” Dylan says, turning the heat on and rubbing his hands together in front of the vent.  “One sausage and pepper, one ham and pineapple.”

“You’re the best, babe.”  Mitch scrolls through the directions.  “All right, you’re taking a right first.”

Dylan turns on the radio, but keeps the volume down, so he can still hear Mitch telling him where to turn.  He mostly knows the way to Stevo’s, especially because it’s close, but he knows he’s distracted and he doesn’t want this trip to take up too much time.

“You know – that assist you got was pretty sick,” Mitch says, still mostly looking at his phone.  “Daddy’s proud, babe.”

Dylan hides a smile under the pretense of checking his mirrors.  “Thanks.”

He leaves Mitch in the car while he goes in and pays for the pizza, handing the two boxes to Mitch when he gets back.

“It’s hot,” Mitch complains, spreading his legs so the cooler edges of the boxes rest on his legs.

“If it burns you, I’ll kiss it better,” Dylan says, and pecks Mitch on the lips.  “Wanna kiss you all over anyway.”

Mitch just smiles, looking back to Dylan’s phone to read off directions to the hotel the Knights are staying in.

Dylan’s not going to pretend he’s not nervous about what’s really his first time Domming Mitch.  Sure, sometimes after a scene Mitch will slide a little, and Dylan will take over a little more, just that’s not really the same.  This is really, Dylan giving orders and Mitch doing what he says, a real scene.  What Mitch does for Dylan.

And Dylan’s in the right mindset for it.  He’s _excited_ , instead of dreading it.  It’s nice.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” Dylan asks, flicking his turn signal when Mitch tells him to turn.

“I wanna celebrate,” Mitch sighs, slumping back in the seat.  “We beat you.”

“Yeah you did, Daddy.”

“I scored a goal.”

“Empty netter,” Dylan points out with a grin.

Mitch turns a pout on him.

“It was a nice goal,” Dylan admits.  “Of course I’ll help you celebrate.  Kiss you all over, go slow…”

“Babe,” Mitch whines.  Dylan peeks over when they’re stopped at a light, and he can see Mitch is already squirming, holding the pizza boxes so they don’t slide around.  “ _Slow?_ ”

“Maybe not too slow,” Dylan allows.  “Not if you’re begging.”

“That’s not fair,” Mitch argues, flipping through the directions from Waze.  “C’mon, drive faster!”

Dylan slows down on purpose, and laughs.  It’s too much fun to tease Mitch, really.  He doesn’t get to do it often enough – doesn’t feel like doing it most of the time.

He’s starting to sort out, now that things are better between him and Connor and him and Mitch, what things he did and felt were his dynamic and what was all the dark shit gurgling inside him.  It’s made spending time with Mitch and Connor that much better, even if that time is mostly through skype and facetime.

“Did you bring anything with you?” Dylan asks, when they’re pulling into the parking lot behind the hotel.

“Just the usual,” Mitch replies, licking his lips.  That means a pair of cuffs, a plug, a cockring.  Dylan can work with that.  Sometimes, Mitch packs away something special, if he thinks he or Dylan’ll be in the mood for it.

Dylan likes keeping it simple, he thinks, for Domming Mitch.  He pulls into a parking spot and imagines Mitch spread out under him, waiting for whatever Dylan’s going to do to him, and smiles.

“Is that a smile I’m going to like?” Mitch asks gleefully.

“You’ll see,” Dylan replies, and turns off the car.

 

.oOo.

 

Yeah, Dylan likes having Mitch spread out under him just as much as he thought he would.  Mitch said that he’d mentioned to Dvorak weeks ago that he’d need to clear out when they visited Erie, and he’s already settled in someone else’s room, so Dylan doesn’t have any qualms about taking his time.

He’d tugged the comforter off the bed while Mitch stood beside him, and then stripped Mitch of his clothes piece by piece.  Tie.  Belt.  Jacket.  Shirt.  Undershirt.  Shoes.  Socks.  Pants.  Boxers.

And now – now he’s got Mitch lying on his back in the middle of the bed, arms up behind his head.

“Are you gonna do anything but look?” Mitch whines, shifting his hips.

“Not yet,” Dylan says, putting his hand on Mitch’s ankle, rubbing his thumb over the ankle bone.  “I like looking at you.”

Mitch grins shamelessly, flexing a little and stretching out.  Dylan huffs a laugh, tracking his eyes down Mitch’s chest, his stomach, to where his cock’s resting mostly-hard against his stomach.

“You like being watched, though.”

“You get to watch me plenty through my webcam,” Mitch complains, but he spreads his legs a little bit, giving Dylan a better view of his balls, the stretch of skin leading to his hole.

“It’s not the same,” Dylan says, but he runs his hand up and down Mitch’s calf, a little more of a tease.  “I know you’ll be here when I’m ready to touch you.”

“I’ll always be here,” Mitch breathes.  “C’mon, babe.”

“I don’t know, Daddy,” Dylan teases.  “Maybe you should touch yourself a little for me, show me what I’m missing out on.”

Mitch doesn’t go right for his cock, like Dylan was expecting he would.  He knows what Dylan wants to see, so he traces his hand down his chest, pausing for a moment on each of his nipples to give them a little tug.  Mitch arches up, his breath stuttering out.

He doesn’t stay there long; his nipples aren’t really as sensitive as Dylan’s are. Mitch slides his hand down his stomach, skipping over his cock to cup his balls, giving a gentle squeeze, his legs moving restlessly under Dylan’s hand.

“Aah,” Mitch gasps out, his wrist bumping the base of his cock.  “Babe, this want you wanna see?”

“Yeah, Daddy,” Dylan says, patting Mitch’s knee.  “Show me more.”

Mitch bites his lip on a whine and finally, _finally,_ drags his hand up to his cock, squeezing a little and giving it a slow pump.

“Just like that,” Dylan murmurs.  Mitch listens, pulling on his cock torturously slow, thumb scrapping over the head.  “Perfect, Daddy.”

“Babe,” Mitch pants.  He hasn’t sped up at all, even though he’s fully hard now, and leaking a little.  “C’mon…”

“Spread your legs a little more,” Dylan tells him at last.  Mitch does, bracing his feet on the bed and spreading his knees.  Dylan hums, dragging his fingers up Mitch’s leg to his knee, and up his thigh.  Mitch shivers and squeezes his cock tighter.

“You gonna touch me babe?”

“Where’d you stash the lube?”

Mitch jerks his chin to the nightstand between the two double beds and, yeah, there’s the tube sitting right there.  Dylan smiles and grabs it, slicks his fingers, pressing one against Mitch’s entrance.

“Fuck,” Mitch hisses, bucking into his hand.

“Yeah?”

“C’mon, babe!”

Dylan laughs and leans down to kiss him gently, sliding his finger in a second later so he can feel Mitch moan against his lips.

“You’re tight,” Dylan murmurs, thrusting his finger in and out, crooking it to stretch Mitch a little.  Mitch doesn’t reply; Dylan doesn’t really need him to.

He’s still stroking himself slowly, his hand tighter than Dylan thought he would like.

“Don’t come,” Dylan says suddenly.  “Like, obviously.”

“Fuck,” Mitch whines.  Dylan works another finger in, keeping a careful eye on Mitch’s face, to see if he winces.  He doesn’t, and Dylan spreads his fingers a little.  Mitch twists under him, hips jumping, hand still pumping his cock oh so slowly.

“Look at you,” Dylan says, mostly to himself, and kisses Mitch again.  Mitch opens up for him beautifully, lips parting at the first touch of Dylan’s tongue.  One of Mitch’s legs hooks around his calf, tugging Dylan closer.

But Dylan’s still dressed, and he feels more than hears Mitch grunt as his bare cock brushes against Dylan’s pants.

Dylan pulls out his fingers, pulls back from the kiss.  “Plug?”

“Bag,” Mitch pants, turning his head so he’s panting against the arm still flung up towards the headboard.  “Fuck, Dyls…”

“Don’t stop,” Dylan reminds him, levering off the bed and digging through the mess of Mitch’s suitcase for the toy bag.  He finds it easily enough, the red bag standing out from his green Knights shirts and mostly-black clothing, and drops it on the nightstand to go through it.

It’s the plug he expected to find – on the smaller side, not too long, but definitely enough that Mitch’ll feel it with every move, won’t be able to stop from clenching down on it.

He slicks it up and presses the tip to Mitch’s entrance, says, “Press back for me.”  Mitch does, bearing down on the plug as Dylan slides it in, going back and forth a couple times over the widest bit.  And when it finally sinks in all the way, the thick base pressed to Mitch’s skin, they both groan.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Mitch pants, hand still working over his cock, still moving slowly.

Dylan grins and pulls off his tie, unbuttons his shirt and shucks it with his jacket.  Undoes his belt and tosses it to the side, slides his pants off and kicks off his shoes and socks.  Pulls his undershirt over his head and peels his briefs off, the wet spot from his cock leaking sticking to his skin on the way down.

“All right, enough of that,” Dylan says, tugging Mitch’s hand away from his cock, squirting lube onto Mitch’s fingers.  He straddles Mitch’s stomach and brings Mitch’s arm around him, so his fingers are pressed to Dylan’s ass.  “C’mon, one finger.”

Mitch rubs the pad of his index finger over Dylan’s hole, then slides it in.  Dylan groans and shifts back, working himself on Mitch’s finger in counterpoint to the way he’s curling his finger just the way Dylan likes.

But really – Dylan fucked himself on his fingers and then a bright purple vibrator – thanks, Connor – for Mitch last night over skype.  He doesn’t need a lot of time with just one finger, and the feeling of it goes from pleasurable to frustrating real fast.

“Second finger,” Dylan says.  Mitch thrusts it in right away, and Dylan groans, spreading his legs a little wider and sinking down on Mitch’s fingers a little bit more.  “ _Shit_.”

“Babe,” Mitch whines, arching up like he wants Dylan’s hands on him.  Dylan just grins and braces his hands on Mitch’s chest, keeping himself upright.  “Kiss me, babe?”

“Not right now,” Dylan gasps, bucking back on Mitch’s fingers.  “C’mon, spread ‘em.”

Mitch bites his lip and does, spreading his fingers a little each time he thrusts them in, stretching Dylan’s hole just enough, for now.

“Deeper.”

Mitch thrusts his fingers in deeper, his palm pressing to the curve of skin between Dylan’s hole and his balls.

“C’mon, Daddy,” Dylan groans, hips twisting.  “You know where it is.”  Mitch shifts his fingers and presses them to Dylan’s prostate, making Dylan jerk and moan.

“Third finger,” he demands.  “ _Keep—_ ”

Mitch doesn’t hesitate.  He has to pull his hand back to work his third finger in, but once he’s thrusting all three into Dylan’s ass, he presses them in all the way and up against Dylan’s prostate again.  Dylan throws his head back and rides down on his fingers, panting up at the ceiling.

“Babe,” Mitch groans, his voice cracking.

Dylan just moans and keeps bucking back on Mitch’s fingers, soaking in every jolt of pleasure radiating through him.  But he likes having Mitch spread out under him too much to look away for long, so he ducks his head and meets Mitch’s eyes, licking his lips at the desperation painted on Mitch’s face.

“Spread them,” Dylan says, and his eyes flutter shut as Mitch spreads his fingers.  He forces them open, rocking back on Mitch’s fingers.

Finally, Dylan’s wound up enough that nothing but Mitch’s cock is going to keep him satisfied.  He lifts up off of Mitch’s stomach, pulling at Mitch’s wrist until his fingers slide out of him.  He drops onto the bed next to Mitch, rolling onto his back and spreading his legs.

“Babe—”

“Well?  Come on and fuck me.”

Mitch doesn’t waste any time.  He scrambles up onto his knees and crawls between Dylan’s legs, taking barely a second to slick his cock before he thrusts into Dylan.

It’s – God, it’s good.  Dylan groans and grabs hold of Mitch’s shoulders, arching up as Mitch thrusts into him.  It’s been a while since Dylan’s had anything but a silicone dick inside him, and he’s missed it, missed being able to hold onto someone while he breaks apart.

“Fuck,” Dylan grunts, wrapping his legs around Mitch’s waist.  “Fuck, Daddy, c’mon.”

Mitch chokes back a whimper and pulls out a little, then thrusts back in gently.

“Harder.”

The next time, Mitch thrusts in harder, but doesn’t move any faster.  Dylan sighs happily and digs his fingers into Mitch’s shoulders.

“Babe,” Mitch groans, his voice trembling.  “I can’t…”

“Don’t come until I do,” Dylan says, holding Mitch’s chin and making him look straight at him.  “Got it, Daddy?”

Mitch shivers and nods his head, keeping his eyes on Dylan’s face.

“Good.  Faster.”

He speeds up a little bit, pulling out a little bit faster and pressing back in sooner.  Every couple of thrusts, Dylan says it again, gets Mitch pumping in and out of him quickly, sweat dripping down the side of his face.

“C’mon, up a little,” Dylan moans, and then arches up when Mitch thrusts right into his prostate, nails digging half-moons into Mitch’s shoulders when he does it again, and again, at that same fast pace because Dylan didn’t tell him to slow down.

“Keep going,” Dylan nearly shouts, when Mitch’s rhythm falters.  “Make me come.”

Mitch nods again, picking up the rhythm that had been driving Dylan up the wall, slamming into Dylan’s prostate on every thrust.

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” Dylan moans, his body tensing, holding tighter to Mitch.  “Fuck, Daddy—”

And he comes, legs tight like a vice around Mitch’s waist, shouting up at the ceiling as his back arches and his head falls back.  He tightens around Mitch’s cock, and Mitch chokes out a noise before he comes, too, bucking into Dylan to ride his orgasm out.

Mitch pretty much collapses on top of Dylan, smearing come between them, his face tucked into Dylan’s neck.  Dylan lifts a hand to rest it on the back of Mitch’s head, running gently through his hair.

“You’re gonna have to roll off me in a minute,” Dylan murmurs.  “Gotta get you cleaned up.”

Mitch groans something incomprehensible and shifts a little bit.

“All right, Daddy, over on your side,” Dylan tells him, pushing at Mitch’s shoulders until he rolls back into the middle of the bed, and Dylan’s free to get up and head into the bathroom.  He grabs a washcloth and wets it, dragging it across his stomach first, and then over his ass and against his hole.  Mitch’s come is already starting to leak out of him.

He brings the cloth back to the bed, gently wiping off Mitch’s cock, then with a quiet warning, pulling out the plug.  Mitch whines and shifts on the bed, but his eyes don’t open.  No pain, then, and Dylan breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

“Come and sleep,” Mitch mutters.  Dylan smiles and wraps the plug in the washcloth, putting it to the side to be dealt with in the morning.

“Something to drink first.”

Mitch grumbles, but he lets Dylan hold a mostly warm bottle of red Gatorade to his lips, and he drinks from it.

“Come _sleep_ ,” Mitch whines, once half the bottle’s gone.

“You can sleep on me, I’m gonna call Connor.”

Mitch smiles, and rolls half on top of Dylan once he climbs back into bed.

“Sheets,” Mitch demands.  Dylan laughs and pulls the sheets up over them, tucking the blanket carefully around Mitch.

“Go to sleep,” Dylan says fondly, and grabs his phone from the night stand.

Connor accepts the facetime request right away.

“I saw the game,” he says, frowning a little.  “I’m sorry, Dyls.”

“It’s all right,” Dylan replies, shrugging a little.  “Happens sometimes.”

Mitch makes a noise when Dylan jostles him, and Connor raises an eyebrow.

“Mitch,” Dylan says, by way of explanation.  Connor smiles and nods.  “You’ve got the Leafs tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, we’re home for a while,” Connor replies.  “It’ll be nice to sleep in my own bed for a couple weeks.”

Dylan doesn’t say anything, instead just stares at Connor on the screen.  He’s smiling, just a little, and his hair’s all messed up.  He was probably lying around after dinner with Taylor and whoever else had stopped by, watching tv or something.

Dylan thinks about how much he loves Connor, even his freckles and his weird chin, and how close he was to losing all of that.

“You must be tired,” Connor says.

“I’d rather look at you then sleep.”

Connor blushes, eyes darting off to the side.  Dylan grins, and finally, Connor mutters, “Me, too.”

But Mitch is digging his chin into Dylan’s shoulder, lying warm and soft on top of him, and a satisfying orgasm and a less-than-satisfying game is more than enough to put him to sleep.

“Call me before your game tomorrow?” Dylan asks.

“You’ll probably be on the bus, though.”

“I don’t care, they’ve pretty much stopped teasing me about talking to you.  They just pretend to gag, now.”

Connor laughs, and it makes Dylan smile.  “All right, I’ll call before my game.”

“I’ll be watching it.”

“I know.”

Dylan pauses, studying Connor a little bit longer.  “I love you.”

Connor blushes a little, but he smiles, eyes crinkling.  “Love you, too.”

Mitch mutters something, probably making fun of them, or maybe saying he’s happy for them.  Dylan doesn’t know.  But after a last, lingering look at Connor’s face, they say goodbye and hang up.

“Thanks,” Dylan says, wrapping an arm around Mitch’s shoulders.

“I saved your relationship,” Mitch slurs against Dylan’s chest.  “You fuckin’ owe me.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dylan replies, rubbing his back gently.  “I’ll always owe you.”

There are some parts of Dylan that Mitch saved without even realizing it, probably.  And Dylan owes him for that, too.  Maybe one day they’ll wind up talking about it, without Mitch screaming through skype at him.  Maybe Connor’ll be there.

But Connor’ll always be there, and Mitch, too, and there’ll be time to talk about everything somewhere besides a hotel room in Erie.

Dylan smiles, closes his eyes, and falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> YAY RELATIONSHIP GROWTH!!!!
> 
> (there have been suggestions and also my own ideas for the next part, so we'll see where this goes next. who knows? i don't)
> 
> Join me in sin on tumblr @ somethingnerdythiswaycomes


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